My Unintended
by Mai Kurosaki
Summary: It is the story of two people on the brink of falling apart. One wants to fight for what they have, one wants to let go. Which one will win? A two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** _Bleach_ belongs to Kubo Tite, while _Unintended_ is an incredible song from Muse that you might one to listen to. It's the one that has inspired all of this.

_**My Unintended**_

Tell me that even for a second you wouldn't wish for the hand that caresses you to be mine. Tell me that you don't think of me every day when you wake up, when you brush your teeth, when you go to work. Tell me that thoughts of me don't drown you when you least expect it, because sometimes I become so unbearable and my presence is so engraved in you that you want to almost exorcise me. Tell me that every time you eat, you don't think of that little restaurant where we used to go in the mornings, where the small woman at the counter would give us free coffee and some small croissants. Tell me that you don't wish to go back there and let my hand caress your cheek, and make you blush, and make you want to scream your love for me. Tell me that you don't want to go back there and hold my hand under the table and let the old woman look at us with fondness and tell us to come back when we are finished.

Tell me you don't dream to have a walk in our favourite spot in the park where people could hardly see us, where we could be just the two of us, where I could hold your hand, where you would lean and kiss me and pretend that this is all normal, that we don't have to hide, that I am not your dirty little secret. Tell me you don't dream to go back to that sycamore tree and carve our names there all over again like in the sappy movies that you hate so much. Tell me that you don't want to go back there and let me caress your skin, your face, kiss your eyes and pretend for just one second we can be free. Tell me that you don't want to sleep in my lap anymore, that you don't want to feel my fingers through your soft hair, that you don't want me to kiss it.

Tell me that you don't want to go back to our small apartment where we could be just the two of us, where you could cook for us and pretend that I am not completely useless in the kitchen. Tell me that you don't wish to have me there again, kissing the top of your head, your elegant neck, and your hands. Tell me that you don't want to get annoyed with me, telling me that you want me out of the kitchen until you're through because I am too much of a distraction. Tell me that you don't want to confess again that my skin holds your favourite flavour and that my mouth holds the perfect spice, that my scent is better than anything and that my caress is sweeter than anything. Tell me that you don't want to drag me to the bedroom again and make love to me, forgetting completely about the food, too dizzy by each other to think of anything else.

Tell me that you don't think of the long summer afternoons when you would read in the late Sunday mornings, in our small living room cramped with books, sheets of paper, forgotten mugs and that old comfortable sofa with pillows and you on it. Tell me that you don't dream of the times that we spent there just reading or sleeping or pretending not to be absorbed by each other's presence. Tell me that you didn't like how the sun snuck in the room and reflected in my hair, how you would look at it for hours, how you would plead with me to let you caress it, kiss it, analyze it. Tell me that you don't still dream of it, you don't want to have me there, heavy in your lap, marking kisses in your skin, tasting your lips, define them, making them mine all over again.

Tell me that you don't want to go back to those nights when we would go to bed to cuddle together, too exhausted to pretend that we are anything else than lovers. Tell me that you don't wish for your hand to rest over my heart, while your other hand would possessively enwrap my waist, drawing me closer to your body, making me feel like you wanted me so much. That I was your half. Your better half. Tell me that you don't dream to wake up in the middle of the night to kisses and embraces and soft murmurs of love while making love, while our bodies would be reminded of each other again. Tell me that you don't feel that need to pull me under your body, to mark me again, to make me yours again as if you wanted to put a label with your name on my body and my soul. Tell me that you don't dream of the scorching warmth between our bodies, that you don't wake up in the middle of the night wishing for me to fill up the other half of the bed. Tell me that you don't want me there anymore.

Tell me that you don't want to go out with me and pretend that I am yours when you want. Tell me that you don't feel the need to show me around like I am your trophy, like they must know I am yours. Tell me that you don't want to kiss me breathless when you feel like some people have come too close to me, like maybe they should be around someone else. Tell me that you don't feel that jealous strike every time someone whispers something to me or when they pat my arm or my back. Tell me that you don't want to drag me anymore back to our place giving extra attention to the places where people have touched me.

Tell me that you don't want to wake up next to me anymore, that you don't want to let my hand caress yours while the morning sun sneaks around our room, making me feel blessed that you were there with me.

Tell me that you don't want to have angry conversations with me over the phone, telling me to stop being childish, that this isn't a game. Tell me that you don't want to yell anymore at me, that you don't want to tell me anymore how this is wrong, that our love shouldn't be so strong, that even if people accept us the way we are, we are still going to face big problems, that you wouldn't be able to protect me, that you would rather die than have something happening to me. Tell me that you don't want to hear me yelling back telling you that you are a coward, that you just want a way out, that this is no way of living our lives, that you should fucking man up and admit that you love me. Tell me that you don't want to be silent anymore, that you won't stop looking at me, trying to deny my accusations but knowing full well that I am right.

Tell me that you want to leave me, that you don't want me by your side forever, that in spite of the blown off argument and slammed doors, you don't know that I am still the _one_, that I am your other soul, that it's nobody out there who completes you better than me. Tell me that you don't want to see me anymore, that taking your things out of the apartment was the best decision you've ever made, tell me that you don't want me close to you anymore.

Tell me all fucking that and I will tell you are such a liar. But if you want to do this, if you want to tear us apart I will tell you this: I will never forgive the moment when you denied me, when you pretended that you don't know me, when I was just a dirty secret for you to hide away from your family, your friends, yourself. I will tell you that _this is it_. There won't be a second chance, there won't be apologies accepted, there won't be other moments. I will disappear from your life like I've never been in it before. So ask yourself this: is it better to live with or without me?


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: _Bleach_ belongs to Kubo Tite. The title is inspired by Muse's song _Unintended_, which is so very beautiful. Adele's _Rolling in the Deep_ also inspired this chapter. Both are incredible songs and I recommend you to listen to them.

_**My Unintended**_

You look at him and you think how is this possible, how you can be so possessive about something, which is given to you so willingly. You look at him and you know that your marks have been long gone from that beloved body. Your handprints on his hips, your hickeys on his neck and your love on his lovely bones and skin have disappeared. You know that he doesn't smell like you anymore, but you remember how he tasted, how he smelled, how his body would writhe under you from too much pleasure. And you know, oh how you know that even now as you are looking at him, you want him so badly, you need him so much. You feel your bones crash against each other, you feel your muscles tighten around themselves overwhelmed with the need to touch him, with the need to carve yourself into his bones, into his skin, into his own very soul until he doesn't know where he begins and where you end.

You have always been intrinsically drawn to him, to his life, to his energy. The first time you touched him, the first time you kissed him and your hand rested on his hip, the other on his neck, you thought that you have reached the final destination. You have finally completed a journey, which might have lasted centuries and many lives. You felt that you were home. But you know that it is not natural, that what you feel has been punished and blamed by the others, it has been judged, and it has been deemed unworthy and unholy.

And yet you can't, you _can't_ let him go. You plunge into his entire being because he has been the only person who has seen the true light of your soul and didn't cower; he has been the only one who took one look into your eyes and smiled inconsiderate to all the coldness of your soul, to all your wounds and pain and feelings buried inside. He saw the real you and like a true soldier, he conquered everything, he drowned all your sorrow and hesitancy in an ocean of passion and love. He let you mark him and you let him suffocate you with callous hands, warm cinnamon eyes, delicious muscles with tanned skin covering miles and miles of his body, with long incredible legs and possessive arms. The first time you took a plunge into his body, you cried. A careless tear fell on his cheek and then another and another. He only smiled softly, lovingly, and took you completely because he had seen your barren soul and the sudden green in it.

You let him consume you, you let his fire take over your soul, plunging deeper and deeper into his very essence until you knew that you belonged to him for eternity and he belonged to you.

And yet you denied him. Time and time again, you hid him deep inside the bowels over your heart or into his small apartment as far away as possible from everything that meant that he was now yours. You hid the fact that he has ripped your heart apart and put it back together better than it was before. You hid the fact that he made you want to scream your love to the world, duty and family be damned. The fire in his eyes purged every doubt that you might have had.

You have taken everything from him. You are aware of that. It is your cowardice that doesn't make you accept the fact that you could have had it all with him and so much more. You have taken his love for granted, you have taken his sadness when you didn't admit what he meant for you, you took his broken heart and refused to mend it even if it hurt you as well. You have taken his dreams of love and turned them so they could fit you; you have taken the essence of his being and you did it willingly. You have taken his despair and his sobs and crushed them because you knew that you could never fight for him. You have taken your presence away from his apartment and you have ceased to exist for a time in his life.

And you hate everyone and everything that has him. You hate his family for his undying loyalty towards them, for their unconditional support of him, for accepting him the way he is. So unlike your own family. You hate his friends for having him in their lives, for having his love. You hate the things he touches because they are glad to be touched by such a man. You know you could have had everything and that sole thought makes you arch in pain.

So this is the moment of truth. What are you going to do? You know that what he says is true. You won't have a second chance and he will purge your presence from his heart and his body, he will bury you so deep that nothing will surface to the end of his life. And just knowing that you will perish from his existence hurts you so much like no physical pain could hurt you. Because looking at him like this you know that he is worth so much more than you. And you want to be generous and do the right thing and let him get on with his life and you want him to be happy but you know where his soul lays and you know where you stand and you know that both of you won't be happy except being in each other's arms. And it just takes you one simple piece of will to reject everything else in your life and accept him full heartedly. And you know that this is the right way because nobody has broken you in so many pieces and nobody has been making you feel so alive like he did. Because you know that rejecting him equals death in your books, because your soul would perish and nobody would care, except him.

You know that your decision is final the moment you see the hesitation in his eyes, the moment when his shoulders slump like that day when you left him behind and everything that he meant for you. The moment he tenses his fists like he wants to punch the cowardice out of you, the moment when his eyes drown in so much pain and thinks he knows that everything he has said has been for nothing.

People say that many things are intended to happen in this life. Since you were born, they have told you that you are intended to do great things, to have a great future. You are intended to make your family proud and you are intended to give up everything for honour and pride and glory and other values that have never been entirely yours. But as you look at him you know the truth.

He is your unintended.

You reach for him with your hands like a drowning man and you pull him closer and closer and closer until you suffocate with his presence again, until his scent invades everything and you crash and you sob and you know that no matter what you do in life from now on, no matter how much of a coward you will be, you'll never deny him again, you'll never leave him again and you will never cease to love him. Until the end of time and beyond. His arms enwrap you in their embrace full of love and they keep you there until that pain fades away and the possessiveness takes a hold of you again.

And when you look into his eyes and see the smile and the love and the forgiveness, you feel blessed and cursed at the same time because you will have to fight for every moment of your life together to bring back what you and him meant together. And you know that this time you won't fail. This time you will give up everything for him, because he is worth it. Because you are worth it. Because your love and life together are worthy of it.


End file.
